


Hoping Through a Wish

by catsandsociopaths



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Cussing, M/M, Reichenbach Angst, Scarification, Smut, Suicide Attempt, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 06:45:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsandsociopaths/pseuds/catsandsociopaths
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years and two months Sebastian Moran waited, shown through texts of varying degrees of desperation and want. Then, it becomes too much, and he finds himself making that cold metal salute to nothing and no one-until....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hoping Through a Wish

**Author's Note:**

> ((Right, hello everyone! First fic. that I've posted here but I've been writing for years and I just hope you enjoy. This will likely be turning into a series of some sort, though we will just have to wait and see!))

Where are you? SM

Where the FUCK ARE YOU?! SM

You can’t be dead. SM

YOU FUCKING BASTARD! SM

...you can’t be dead… SM

 

[One week.]

You there? SM

It isn’t funny, boss. Cut it out. SM

 

[One month.]

Jim? SM

[Three months.]

Three months. You’re really not coming back. SM

Fucking cunt. SM

 

[Six months.]

Guess what? Officially the most dangerous man in London. Come and take your job back-doing your job sucks. SM

 

[Eight months.]

Caved and bought some bloody suits. Hate them. SM

Itchy. SM

Remind me of you. SM

Not the itchy part-the suit part. SM

...everything remind me of you… SM

[One year.]

One year anniversary. Still dead? SM

Course you are. SM

Cunt. SM

 

[One year, three months.]

u knw if u drnk lots vrythn bcms werd? SM

lke hw thght saw u. SM

nt u cus ur DEAD. SM

 

[Two years.]

Remember Rogers? Scrawny kid that both of us thought wouldn’t get far? Turns out the kid has balls-and my old job now. Not as good as me but no one is, huh? SM

 

[Two years, four months]

Sherlock Holmes is alive. It’s not fair-how can he be when you’re not? Trying to tear down the web but I moved it-he’s gettin’ the scraps and thinks he’s struck gold. SM

If you could be here you’d finally see how pathetic he is. SM

He died for Watson-what did you die for? SM

 

[Two years, six months]

I’m sorry. SM

 

[Two years, seven months]

Come home. SM

 

[Two years, seven and a half months]

I love you. SM

I LOVE YOU. SM

...you cunt. SM

 

[Two years, eight months]

I hate you. SM

No I don’t. Fuck, even dead I can’t lie to you, you wanker. SM

 

[Two years, eleven months]

Your dinner is getting cold. SM

Nevermind. Sometimes I forget. SM

Your scars were fading but I redid them. No worries. SM

 

[Three years]

Had to dump my old phone-ran into some trouble. New flat too but I miss the old one. This one doesn’t have any memories. SM

Guess that’s a good thing. SM

 

[Three years, two months]

I thought I could do it, Jimmy. SM

Ha, you hated when I called you that. SM

But dead guys don’t get a say in shite like that, /Jimmy/. SM

Sorry, off topic (you hated that too). SM

I’m gonna do it, boss. Got the same gun that I’ve always had-I’m sure you’d remember Lucy if you could-and tonight is the night. No more waiting. SM

We always said that that God bullshit was BULLSHIT but doesn’t stop me hoping that I’ll see you in hell. SM

I love you. SM

So, I’m gonna give you what you never gave me- SM

Goodbye, Boss. SM

….

He has to let go, though it feels more like giving up, giving in. Jim isn’t coming back and Sebastian has waited years before he could actually accept that. Right now, staring down at his gun as he calmly loads it-just one bullet, no need for another one-he thinks about that. Funny that he’s survived this long, fighting tooth and nail only to end up dying by his own hand and the gun that saw him through so much of that struggle.

In a twisted way it’s as it should be. Who else that is still alive can kill the ‘most dangerous man in London’? No one, meaning he has to do it himself with everyone else completely failing at all of the attempts that they’ve made over the past three years, just to see him dead in the ground. Will the cleaning lady find him or one of his cronies? Maybe Roger, when he reports in tomorrow morning after another hit that the ex-sniper sent him to take care of, just to get him out of the way since he’s been planning this for a while. Kid will probably take one look, roll his eyes and mutter about how Sebastian was an idiot, then dispose of the body, most likely take over the network. By this point it’s almost like a fucked up dynasty, passed on by blood and responsibility.

Ah well, not his problem anymore and there’s a /snap/ as he turns the safety off, checks the silencer-doesn’t want to be too much of a disturbance, after all. Has neighbors to think about. They’ll already have to deal with enough scrutiny and why make it so no one else can sleep? Wouldn’t be fair of him.

Like it wasn’t fair of Jim.

Jim.

“This one’s for you, you great big cunt,” he mutters, voice almost cheerful as he makes a mock salute to thin air. Just this once in years he’s abandoned the suit and tie look, going with his worn jeans and tight t-shirt. If he’s dying tonight then he’s going to die as HIM instead of some kind of shitty replacement for Jim because no one can replace Jim, even if he’s tried.

The metal is cold as he presses it to his temple and he wonders if he’ll be able to feel it-if Jim had been able to feel it. Nah, probably not, probably painless but pills have too much of a chance of not actually killing him. And besides that, he’s lived by the gun, only right that he dies by it too even if it’s not the blaze of glory that he always thought it would be.

“Don’t you fucking DARE, Sebastian!” The scream comes from nowhere and he jumps, whirling around to face the hallway and...no. No no no, he has to be imagining things, his brain making him fucking hallucinate because there is no way in HELL that Jim can be standing there, face flushed in anger, eyes dark and menacing with bared teeth and wind blown hair. Yeah, that’s what this is but he can pretend, can’t he? At least for a little while, at least until he decides he can’t take it anymore. He doesn’t lower the gun, hand steady even as the other moves to wave halfheartedly.

“Hey, Boss. You look a bit peaky-death all that bad? Guess I’ll be finding out either way...did it hurt? I think it’ll hurt but then I’ll be dead and it won’t matter, will it?” A humorless smile twists his scarred lips, blue eyes as icy as ever and Jim takes another step forward but then freezes when he sees Sebastian’s finger tighten just a bit on the trigger.

Jim just stares, color draining from his face and the heat moving to his eyes, to his white knuckled fists as he seethes in rage, so still it’s like he’s not even /breathing/. “Sebby...tiger, don’t do it. Please, don’t fucking do it. I’ll drag you back, tear your soul from the beyond and shove you into your body over and OVER again so I can keep /killing/ you until I stop being ~pissed~.” The words are said in just that way that Jim always used for threats and the blond can’t help but crack a smile, oddly nostalgic.

“Course you will, boss. That’s because-” he never gets to finish, the genius using his brief distraction to suddenly lunge forward like a pouncing predator, tackling Sebastian to the floor and tearing the gun away to throw it, a BANG going off, plaster falling before it skids under the telly and out of sight. Jim doesn’t stop, though, starts hitting the sniper in the chest with flat, stinging palms as he sobs, “You fucking /imbecile/! I hate you so much and you just kept TEXTING ME, wouldn’t let me STAY DEAD and then you have the fucking gall to pull a stunt like this. I should hang you by your toes and chop off all your hair and starve you and-” he just keeps going, keeps hitting the shocked man.

Blinking, the hits finally reaching his suspended brain and he snatches up the brunette’s wrists. Then and only /then/ does it sink in because he can feel the wild pulse in thin wrists and from there he becomes aware of Jim’s harsh breathing, the weight of his body pinning him down, the throb in his own chest from the hits…

“O-oh, you...Jim. Boss. Oh god. JIM.” It’s choked and his eyes are stinging. He doesn’t care, is suddenly surging up, his arms like iron bands as he shoves their bodies together, feels how /solid/ and REAL the criminal is. Surely a hallucination can’t feel like this? That means that Moriarty is actually here, here and pissed and dammit, Sebastian is crying but he’s also laughing, voice hoarse as he buries his face in one of those bony fucking shoulders and nothing has smelt better than the way Jim smells now. Nothing.

If the blond is clinging then Jim is trying to meld them together, hands scrambling over every bit of the sniper he can reach, searching for any further injuries while trying to also make sure he’s here too. While he does this he just coos quietly, patting him a bit too hard to try and comfort Sebby who’s shaking like a leaf in a storm, sobbing and laughing-a complete wreck. “There there, tiger, daddy’s home and he’s not ever going to leave you. Not. Ever. He just had to go on a bit of a trip, see, but he’s all back now and you’ll never be alone again. Can’t leave you again, Seb dear. Shush now, daddy’s got you.”

Suddenly pulling back Jim cups the red, tear stained face, moving to lick the dampness away and Sebastian finally quiets beneath the attention even if he’s still shaking a bit. His mind is working in overdrive, trying to accept what is apparently very real. It takes another ten minutes of this same treatment before he fights his way through the fog, looking at Jim with clear, uncertain eyes. “Jimmy. You...where have you been?”

Now it’s the brunette’s turn to look uncomfortable, even guilty. “I can’t tell you that. Not yet. Later, I promise I’ll explain everything, okay?” His voice is low, a certain haunted cast to his features. After a moment of internal struggle Sebastian nods before brushing their noses together. “Alright but you better do it you wanker.” A pause as he pulls back, blue eyes narrowed, “This doesn’t mean I forgive you. Fucker.”

“Language, tiger!” he chides, the dark look gone as he grins and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Sebastian laugh, shaking his head fondly. Everything isn’t better or fixed but it sure as hell is an improvement to a matter of minutes ago so he just holds Jim, the criminal holding him back even tighter as they try to smother the other with their own harsh reassurances.

Something suddenly snaps with Jim crashing their mouths together, all teeth and demanding tongue, shoving his way inside the blonde's mouth just as he did with his heart. Just like with that, he’s helpless to do anything but open up even as he fights back, mouths battling for all they’re worth. Growls mix with snarls, hisses of pleasure-at some point their hips start grinding against each other. With Jim in his lap it has the sniper grinding against his arse, the brunette rutting against a cotton clad, chiseled abdomen.

Snarling, calloused hands grip that same arse, dragging Jim down harder, their lips getting even more desperate, passionate heat escalating. They’re going to cum in their pants like a bunch of teenagers but neither can find it in themselves to care, the friction too good and /here/ and /now/ and JUST LIKE THAT.

“Fuck-ck, J-Jim, I’m gonna-” he never finishes, shuddering suddenly, teeth sinking into the side of Moriarty’s neck viciously as he moans, pants suddenly a lot stickier than they were before. The spark of pain, the feel of his sniper coming undone has Jim’s own hips stuttering before he follows his blond right over the edge, shoving hard once more against his stomach before going boneless. They fall back onto the floor, still clinging desperately and fully clothed.

A few minutes later finds Sebastian chuckling, rolling his eyes, eyes soft-/fond/. “We’re fuckin’ ridiculous, you know that?”

“Oh, I am perfectly ~a-ware~, tiger.” Jim lilts right back, grin mischievous before he turns serious, one small hand darting up beneath the tight shirt to splay out across the muscles of his back. “I’m not as strong as you, Sebby. I can’t...I can’t live without you. Don’t you ever, EVER, do that again. Understood?” nails dig in, raking down, mouth twisted into a snarl as he pins him with dark eyes.

Whimpering he nods, arching into the burning pain that just keeps reminding him he’s alive. That Jim is alive.

“Course, boss.” He whispers, curling closer, head burrowing under Moriarty’s neck, curling awkwardly since he’s so much bigger but the discomfort is okay because this is as close as he can get to being enfolded in this man that he loves more than he ever thought he could love anything.

“Good.”

They don’t say or do anything for a long time, lying on the floor with cooling semen in their shorts, pressed tightly together, just looking at the other, devouring them with greedy but meandering hands mixed with sharp gazes.

……..


End file.
